Dark Desire's
by ladylookslikeadude
Summary: Harry Potter was betrayed by those he considered friends and family. With both his wolf and demon mourning the loss of Pack, he heads to St. Louis, only to meet up with the Anita Blake crew. Slash! HP/JC/A/R triangle. Anita bashing!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.**

**Chapter 1**

Harry gasped for breath, choking on both his blood and Voldemort's. That's right. Even as he lay dying, the monster that had ruined so many lives was dead, now just another corpse on the ground. But as he lay on the blood stained ground, staring at the sky, he noticed something that made the little blood he had left freeze in his veins - a full moon. But even as he noticed, he was hearing the dreaded sound.

A low growling filled the air, causing the little hairs on his arms to stand up straight.

A brown werewolf (with fur matted with blood, dirt, and other things Harry would rather not think about) came out of the Forbidden Forrest. Already dizzy from blood loss, darkness completely swallowed his vision as the wolf form of Fenrir Greyback moved towards his slit throat. Harry Potter gritted his teeth and snarled right back at him. "Come and get some Greyback," he grunted through the pain.

Harry groaned when he woke up, blinded by the pure white of St. Mungo's. Remus Lupin moved into his line of sight strangely silent, his form wavering slightly even as he silently gave him a sip of water for his parched throat. When he was done Remus said, "Fenrir Greyback bit you."

The soft smile on Harry's face froze as he swiftly contemplated the reactions that people would have to that particular bit of information. "I need to leave." He also apparently needed some glasses again, because Remus was wavering really badly.

The words had been softly spoken with a sad look, because Harry didn't want to leave, but it would very likely soon be the only viable option. Remus took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded before murmuring, "Your family has a house in St. Louis. It's not much, but there's a pack of werewolves, and other weres, there if you ever decide to go for Pack."

Harry smiled and nodded, but in all reality he kind of doubted that he would ever go for Pack. He never had liked the feeling of relying on others, and as a Submissive he would have to. He chewed on his lip and delved into his own head for a moment, listening to the snarls of a fight with a wince. His family, while being able to hear Lady Magic, also had Guardian Animals, and his just so happened to be a Wolf Spirit, one of the greatest. The Trickster Loki. He paused, and then realized that he still had his bloody pants on which were now stiff with dried blood.

The medi-witches _had_ taken off his shirt though, and cleaned his wounds. He was, admittedly, rather surprised that one had dared get so close to a monster. Harry wasn't just thinking of being bitten either. He had done some terrible things during the War. He swung his legs off the bed and then stood, carefully testing his rather shaky muscles.

A medi-witch came in and immediately screamed for help, bringing in several other medi-witches and a Healer. One of the medi-witches, obviously Muggleborn, pulled out a silver cross and shouted, "Begone, Demon," while pressing the cross into his stomach, right above his pants line.

He hissed and stumbled back, cursing the shoddy workmanship of the cross, particles of silver sticking in the wound, leaving it unable to heal. He had always loved the look of silver, but had never used it for Remus' sake. Now it looked like that wouldn't be the only reason he wouldn't.

He shot a desperate look at Remus before Disapparating when it was clear that he would do nothing to help. In fact, he just stood there, giving Harry the saddest look that he had ever seen. The medi-witches looked confusedly before asking one another, "What was he looking at?" None of them had a clue, so after one more cursory search around the empty room, they left.

Harry fell to his knees and retched, still able to feel the burning of the silver in the wound even as it closed, leaving a permanent scar on his body. The betrayal of the medi-witch actually hurt more than the wound she had inflicted. Medi-witches were supposed to heal, not harm. That was part of the Code they swore by. Harm no one, and never speak of a patient.

He staggered to his feet, desperation twisting in his eyes as he Apparated to the one place he could always go. The Weasley's. But when he appeared there were screams of terror, and Hermione was brandishing a silver cross in his direction. "Get out," screeched Molly Weasley. "Isn't it bad enough we had to be kind to the werewolf? Now you were bitten and then, we find out that you're part demon! I…"

Harry abruptly cut her off by Disapparating. In his mind, both man and beast mourned the loss of Pack, and he couldn't do anything about it. Hell, he didn't even know if Ron was still alive, although he assumed not. After all, he would have never allowed his mother to speak to Harry like that, ever.

After a while of simply choking his sobs and shaking violently, he forced himself to calm down. But before he could fully calm down, a bloody and broken Remus Lupin stumbled from the fireplace. Frozen for only a moment, when Remus started swaying he was right there to guide him to the couch. "M'sorry," Remus slurred, eyes glassy after being administered the pain potion. "Couldn't stop 'em. So sorry…. He trailed off.

Harry looked away, taking in a shaking breath, knowing that Remus was now dead. Harry swallowed before nodding firmly. It was obvious that a Necromancer was at work for the Ministry, because Remus' wounds were far too severe for him to have stayed alive throughout it all, even with werewolf healing. He refused to think about the fact that that meant that Remus couldn't have been in the hospital room with him. He didn't have the Ghost Whisperer gene damn it!

But, now he knew it was time to leave. Perhaps the Muggle world? It had been all over the news lately, weres and vampires and such being accepted in the Muggle world especially in St. Louis, and that _was_ where Remus had said his family had a house. Maybe they'd accept a werewolf/half wolf demon/necromancer too. He firmly ignored the fact that Remus had obviously not truly been there in the hospital room.

He glanced through the list of properties he'd found on the table with the potions, and without much thought, his eyes narrowed in on one. He skimmed through the details and nodded, it seemed perfect for what he had in mind.

He looked at the information and started to grin. Not only was it the very same property Remus had told him about (he wasn't thinking about how it was impossible, with such extensive wounds, that he would have been able to be at the hospital with him), who would expect him as a werewolf, to go to the city with the highest paranormal activity in America? No one would expect it, since he had always tried to keep away from such places, and the attention that they brought. Yeah, that settled it.

Harry Potter was shedding his name, and Ashton Black would take his place. He smiled sadly. It was what Sirius had said that he would always want to name a son. He nodded to himself yet again. Harry Potter was going to St. Louis.


	2. Gaspeth! Vamps and weres, oh my!

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.**

**Chapter 2**

It was now three years after he had come to St. Louis and he'd certainly found a job – a job as an animator. Oh, he may not sound terribly enthused about it, but it wasn't that bad of a job. Although, he did have to admit, he really hated using his 'Gift' to raise the dead of some _very_ unappreciative people.

Speaking of his job…Ashton groaned in relief when he finished his final raising of the night. Even with splitting his raisings with the bitch known as Anita Blake, he was still completely exhausted at the end of the day, what with people still being curious about how good he was even after three years.

He wasn't quite as good as Anita, but he was good enough to raise three zombies a night, which was better than most animators could do, and he definitely had more power than she did, she just had more finesse. After all, he had been using his powers in the War; there had been no use for finesse in what he had been doing.

He froze, coming out of his thoughts, sniffing the air. He smelled…Anita Blake and a shit load of…he paused, sniffing the air yet again, Weres and vamps, and one more human. What the fuck? It was certainly an eclectic group to say the least, and that was saying something coming from someone who had a House-Elf as a friend.

His lips curved into an almost…seductive smile as he felt the heady power of the Ulfric of the Thronnos Rokke clan wash over him. There was only one reason that the Ulfric would be there. Blake had found out what he was. Now the only question is…which did she know? The werewolf, or the demon? Or better yet, the fact that he was a true Necromancer, not just a petty Animator like most of the people working for Bert were.

He perched himself onto a headstone and patiently waited for Anita and her company, grinning faintly. The Master of the City and his Right Hand. Well, this certainly raised some possibilities. "Why hello Anita," he greeted calmly. "I didn't think you had a raising tonight, although to say it's a surprise to see you here in your present company would be a lie. A graveyard is where the dead belong, after all." The blond human man smirked and seemed to like him after that statement, and Ashton arched an eyebrow. It was certainly an odd thing to like him for.

A few hours later, after many questions and arguments, he was sitting in Jean Claude's office at The Circus of the Damned. He smirked sardonically before asking, "Are you going to tell me why I'm here, or try and stare me down? 'Cause let me tell you, if it's the latter, we'll be here for a VERY long time." He heaved a sigh and added, before Anita could speak, "And no, I will not apologize for what I said, so stop telling me to." Jean Claude nodded and murmured, "_I_ apologize, I should not have left a guest waiting such a long time for answers."

Ashton forced a small smile from stubborn lips in acceptance, unable to comprehend the way his wolf wanted him to roll over and produce his stomach for Jean Claude. However, he could hear Loki snarling his fury at the same time, in it was inducing quite the headache.

"It's fine." He bit his lip before sighing and adding, "I apologize as well, I should not have been so snippy, but it's been a REALLY long night, since I had to cover some of Anita's raisings as well as my own. Actually…" he paused and turned to Anita. "It appears as though I covered your ass just to get burned." He hadn't thought she was really that bad, but apparently she really was a complete bitch.

The one he'd heard referred to as Death sniggered at that, saying, "He's got you there Anita." Anita's eyes gleamed with an unending hatred before she replied, "I don't give a damn if he's 'got me there'! I just want all of this to be over with so I can go home, so let's get this all straight right now."

Ashton arched an eyebrow. He hadn't done anything that he was aware of to cause such hatred to burn in her eyes. Well, he hadn't yet. He certainly could and would if she kept on acting like this. She was seriously pissing him off.

She turned to Ashton. "You will join Richard's Pack, you will act the part of the good little submissive, and everything will go back to the way it was before we got mixed up with you, got it?" She was still fairly calm looking after her mini rant, but Ashton did not. In fact, he looked rather furious, and even as he started to speak, he remembered what his trainer had said about his demon half.  
__  
_**FLASHBACK**_

_The red haired woman gaped in shock, somehow still managing to appear attractive as she said, "They haven't trained you in occlumency, and you haven't killed anyone with your temper yet? Well, I'll have to give you credit, you have iron willed self control, 'cause boy, we're fucking deadly when we're pissed, and it's in our genetics to get angry easily." She gave him a deadly smile. "And trust me, it's a VERY good thing that you haven't killed anyone, because if you had, I would've slaughtered you." And then he was hit in the back of the head, his vision fading to black as he heard a female's maniacal laughter._  
__  
_**END FLASHBACK**_

"How dare you." His voice was a soft, dangerous, deadly calm as he spoke. "How dare you even assume that you could order me around? You are a human and I…" he paused in apparent amusement, "I am not - not nearly. But you still dare to act the part of a defiant human." He shook his head in disgust. "If you were even half as powerful as the weakest person in here, then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't be so angry, but you are by far the weakest in here, no matter the pull you have on the Master." By now he was shaking with anger. "Let me tell you one thing, Anita Blake. If you ever presume to order me around again, I will show you exactly why everyone is _so__DAMN_ terrified of demons, because that's what I am, you silly mortal. I am a demon, and you have seriously pissed me the fuck off."

With that, he allowed his eyes to flash, just once, the color of his demon, a pure ruby red, and then he spun around and left, leaving them all in silence. Finally, it was Edward who broke the silence with a mocking smile and a sarcastic, "Well, THAT went well!" With that, he made his way to the door also, and left, leaving everyone speaking rapidly.


	3. The Werewolf Assassin Guild

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.**

**Chapter 3**

Everyone jabbered on and on and on, and finally Jean Claude roared, "ENOUGH!"

His power washed over them, reminding them once and for all why no one now contested his rule to the city. Anita wasn't the only thing that the Council was afraid of, especially after the final death of Belle Morte. He gave them all a dark look and said, "I do not blame Mon petite Loup for getting furious with you all, especially you Anita."

He rounded on her. "How dare you order one of MY wolves to do something, especially to 'be a good little submissive'!"

Richard, actually agreeing with Jean-Claude for once, added, "You were basically telling him to be a good little whore Anita, and a Submissive he may be, but no self-respecting wolf would ever agree to something like that." He caught her confused look and correctly inferred what it was about. "The issues with Raina were something entirely different Anita, and not open for public discussion."

Jean-Claude gave her a furious look. "I am ashamed to say I ever desired you. Feel very lucky that I am still in a slightly decent mood, otherwise I would've killed you on the spot, despite what the death of a powerful Animator would do to Mon Loup." Everyone looked at his flat, emotionless face, and decided that he wasn't joking.

Except for, of course, Anita, who was never able to believe that she had anything less than complete control over the monsters that she bedded. She laughed confidently and tossed her mess of curls behind her shoulder, replying, "You wouldn't do that. You wouldn't even do it when I managed to remove all of the marks you hypocrite!"

She let out a mocking laugh that quickly turned into a choked gasp when an ornate dagger made its way into her throat. "Am I joking now Anita?"

The quiet question echoed in the now silent room as she collapsed into the now bloodstained carpet. But it had been completely within his rights to kill her. She had been the one stupid enough to antagonize a pissed off and powerful Master Vampire. And as she lay dying, that one question echoed around in her head until she finally found peace in the silence of Death.

Ashton shook his head furiously the next morning when a call came through at Animators, Inc. from a Jason, telling him that Jean Claude apologized for the drama of last night, and that Anita had been dealt with, and that he wanted Ashton to come back to the Circus of the Damned that night to finish negotiations.

"I'm really, really sorry Jason, but right now I just have too much to do with Anita not showing up today. Like I said, I'm really sorry, but maybe some other time, and _damn_ doesn't it sound like I'm turning down a date."

Without bothering with a goodbye he hung up the phone while shaking his head. "If I'm not careful people will start to think me more of a whore than Anita ever was," he muttered to himself. Although, to be perfectly honest, that wouldn't be possible, because as completely bitchy as he could be, he generally had good reasons for it, and when he didn't he did his best to not take it out on anyone.

Bert then barged in and barked, "You're on for five raisings tonight, and do you know where Anita is?" Ashton looked at his boss for a moment and then replied, "Sorry Bert, but Anita didn't come in today."

He forced himself to look worried, "I think something might have happened to her, 'cause I saw her last night, and she was…" he paused again, "Quite honestly, she was acting completely insane!"

Bert snarled in frustration and stormed out of the office. Ashton shook his head in disgust. "One night spent with them, and I'm already covering up for 'em.

I'm an idiot." With that wonderful view of himself, he got back to interviewing clients.

Ashton waited impatiently until the last person for his last raising left, then he slumped to the ground and gasped. He was unableto do anything but curl up on the ground, and he wished that he'd been smart enough to give some clients to Larson or Larry or whatever the kid who Anita was training's name was. He heard the light, almost non-existent footsteps that marked vampire's and were's and swore viciously. He was _so_ not in the mood to deal with their bullshit.

He ruthlessly shoved back his exhaustion and slowly got to his feet. "Mon petite Loup, you should not have done so much. If you were to be attacked, you would be defenseless. Ashton gave a harsh, barking laugh before replying, "Yeah, defenseless. Right."

He snorted once before doing his best to muffle his sounds of amusement. Edward pointed out coldly, "I could have killed you, and I'm…well, most consider me human." Ashton arched an eyebrow in confusion before realization dawned in his eyes, and he laughed.

Ashton gave them all a slow grin before replying, "I am the only unnamed Assassin to ever come out of the Werewolf Guild. Do you honestly think a mere assassin from Van Cleef's Guild could even scratch an Assassin from the Werewolf Guild?" Edward paled uncharacteristically before mutely shaking his head.

The Were Guild, as it was mostly called, brought out the best Assassin's in the world. Very few would even have a chance with him, and the man known as Death was not one of them. Jean Claude's eyes narrowed calculatingly, but he bowed his head and murmured, "I apologize. I should have made sure you were defenseless, not merely assumed you were."

Ashton arched an eyebrow. "Whoa there Master, better watch what you say. You might have people thinking that you're planning on doing something terrible to little old me." He gave a sharp smile to Jean-Claude that said quite clearly 'don't even think about it.'

Edward smiled thinly in cold glee and said, "I hope you feel like putting your claims on being part of the Were Guild to the test, because something wicked this way comes."

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Ooooh, vampy fight! Andthe human wins

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.**

**Chapter 4**

Ashton blinked slightly before a vicious grin overtook his face. It was some rogue vampires that had been murdering people for quite some time now. He could not wait, to be perfectly honest. He was ridiculously tense, and tired as he may be, he never was one to turn down a fight. He actually laughed, and then he muttered, "I do so hope that neither of you three are squeamish."

With that he crouched down and began to stalk the insane creatures. He looked disturbingly like a vampire stalking his prey, and the thought made Jean-Claude lick his lips slightly in desire. Thankfully the vampires didn't notice until he got close enough to slam his dagger through the first one's chest, then he actually did a back flip. Incorporating gymnastics into his fights were half the fun.

His daggers were his favorite weapons, but not the only ones that he used, and they were completely normal unless you counted the runes on them to make sure they stayed sharp, never rusted, and always came when he called for them. Generally, when he actually went Hunting, he would take potions and a helluva lot more weapons. Especially Gryffindor's Sword. Which, admittedly, he had stolen from the Headmaster's office before he had left.

Asher and Jean Claude both arched an eyebrow in surprise at the move. It was one that most humans would never be able to do, and it began to raise questions in their minds that they desperately wanted answers for.

"Huh," Edward muttered, "Explains how he survived the training."

"Not nearly hun," Ashton called back, enjoyment clear in his voice. "I'm just that damn good."

With that Ashton had to focus more on the fight, twisting in an amazing acrobatic move to avoid having his throat torn out. He almost giggled, but managed to avoid the unmanly gesture by the skin of his teeth.

It had been so long since he had actually had a decent fight. The irony of the last decent fight he had had also been with a vampire didn't escape his notice, but he had to admit, he was the best of the Werewolf Assassin's, and they were some of the best fighters in the world. It stood to reason that something with reflexes and strength above his own would be the only thing that could pose a challenge to him.

Amusingly enough, he had lost only three fights in his history as an Assassin, and all of them had been to the same person. Asher.

That was the only name he had given before he had attacked, and, surprisingly enough, he had not attacked again and again. Only thrice, but it was enough to curb Ashton's ego, which had been getting rather large. It had deflated quite a bit in the wake of his three defeats, and just in time for the last fight against Voldemort.

He had never been attacked a fourth time, which had always relieved him greatly. He never did know who it was, but he was sure that it wasn't the vampire companion of the Master of the City, as they had looked quite different. His Asher had been black for starters. He was actually fairly certain that his Asher had been a part of the Council, but he would never know for sure. As a human (To the best of the Council's knowledge, anyway) he wasn't privy to such information.

That was why he never got a large ego in later years. He had always been afraid that the vampire would finally kill him. The burning pain in his shoulder broke him out of his reminiscing and he cursed himself and the vampire quite loudly.

He had known better than to let himself get distracted. He was getting rusty. His mood blackened in fury when he realized that, although he managed to keep his face in a mask of pure enjoyment, and he quickly twisted under the vampire's arms, and even as they closed around him, he shoved his dagger through the chest.

He frowned slightly as he wandered back to the group waiting for him. His Master would've slaughtered him for his shoddy showing out there, not to mention his getting distracted.

He actually winced at the thought of what his Master would've done to him. Jean Claude, however, took his wince to mean that the now numb wound was paining him, and said, "Mon petite Loup, we simply must get your wound cleaned and bandaged."

Ashton blinked, coming out of his thoughts and, even while scolding himself for allowing himself to get distracted again, said, "If you insist. It's not really bothering me though." And it really wasn't, although he was feeling it more than he would have three years ago. Not only was he getting rusty, he was getting old as well, and he didn't like it.

"I insist, even if Mon Ami does not." Yeah, you guessed it, Asher had finally decided to contribute to the discussion. Ashton's smile sharpened and he murmured, "And I certainly cannot say no to you, now can I?" No one else would get it, but to deny such a thing would be a massive insult.

Edward was looking between the two of them with a blank look, said look informing them that he thought that they were acting ridiculous. Ashton shot him a sharp smile before he walked a bit faster to catch up with the two vampires. Edward, despite what people thought, was simply human, and he didn't need to know about the silent politics of Vampire company.

As they got to where they had all parked, Asher grabbed his arm when he attempted to go to his own car. "We will have someone pick up your car so you can go home in the morning, but for now, you are coming with us."

Ashton looked at them sharply before sighing and allowing himself to be lead to the car, smirking tiredly when they looked at him questioningly when they were all settled. "I'm too tired to fight with you." The silent 'for now' echoed within the car.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.**

**Chapter 5**

Once they got to the Circus of the Damned and it's rather amusing fanged clowns, they went underground and Harry was made to sit on the couch in Jean-Claude's private quarters as they did their best to patch him up. Of course, he could ask Loki for some help to jumpstart the healing process, but considering the fact that he was still mostly in his 'civilian' mindset, the wolf demon would eat him alive.

He frowned as he thought of something while mildly smacking Asher's wandering hands away. "If Anita was part of your Triumvirate, and bonded to so many others, how is it that none of you are dead?" Now that he thought about it, that was really bugging him, because now something was smelling really fishy.

Jean-Claude coughed gently and looked vaguely uncomfortable as he murmured, "Ah, mon loup, I had so hoped that you wouldn't notice, but we did pick you for your brains as well as your beauty."

Ashton arched an eyebrow. 'Picked me? Are they freaking crazy?' But no, he could almost taste the fact that he wouldn't like what was going to be said next, and he subtly braced himself for the mental impact, because if he didn't, only Lady Magic knew what would happen next, especially if the shock knocked loose the bonds he had put on his own magic. Yeah, he'd be screwed then.

He sighed and said, "While you were here I merely placed a…I suppose you would call it a 'secondary' claim on you, to fully bloom when Anita died. I admit, I never expected to loose my temper in such a way, and so you had to find out far earlier than I planned."

Harry looked at him flatly, all genial appearances gone. "What, precisely, does that mean for me?" Because if it meant what he thought it did, he was going to have him some cooked vampire tonight, because he did _not_ want to catch Anita Blake's crazy.

Jean-Claude began, but Asher interrupted, "It means that you get all of Anita's connections."

Harry winced and asked, "Even the bitchy werewolf?" It was asked in an extremely pitiful tone.

At their amused nods he scowled. "I swear, Remus was never like that." In the years he had been here, he had mostly gotten over the werewolf's death, but he still had the odd moment that he bowed his head and Loki howled in sadness again mourning the loss of Pack, especially Remus. He was the only one who would have truly understood.

It wouldn't be so bad if he still had _some_ pack left, but it was not to be. He looked thoughtful at that moment, because if this meant what he thought, he _could_ have Pack again, if he wanted. If he was ready for it.

Perhaps that was what Remus had meant when he had said, "Keep your options open," or something to that effect. He would have known that Ashton would have the longing for Pack that they all had eventually, and he definitely would have known that his would be stronger than most.

Ashton sighed and said, "I doubt that they are all going to accept me, but who are they and where and when can I meet them?"

Again Jean-Claude looked uncomfortable. "Ah, Mon petite Loup, I already took the liberty of calling them here to meet you."

Ashton twitched but said, "Are they already here or not?"

"They are."

He smiled grimly and said, "Then let's go meet them, hm?"

They led him down to a different room, and he shook briefly with nerves before forcing himself to calm down. That had always confused everyone. He was one of The Werewolf Guild's most famous assassins, and the only one never given a name, the only one who had never _needed _a name, but put him in a social situation and he shook like a virgin on her wedding night.

He took a deep breath and opened up the door, just barely able to stand still with so many different energies trying to consume him.

"Shit," he muttered, "No wonder the bitch was going insane. Probably didn't realize that the animals were melding with her mind."

He heard a short coughing noise and grinned sheepishly, "Sorry about that. Kinda hard to get used to all the different energies swirling around, I'm Ashton Black."

Richard gave him an aggressive look and snapped, "I'm pretty sure we all know _that_. We'd just like to get this over with, if you don't mind."

Ashton looked at him blankly and asked, "Get _what_ over with?"

Jean-Claude and Asher both looked furious as a wereleopard from the corner answered, "The mating."


	6. Phew, dodged that one!

**Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.**

**Chapter 6**

Ashton gave them a blank, uncomprehending look that said, 'I know what you said, but I refuse to believe it.' "Could you kindly repeat that?" 'I know that they weren't just talking about some bullshit mating, 'cause if they were, I really _will_ be having me some cooked Vampire tonight.' He would not, and would never condone unwilling mating, and that's exactly what this was shaping up to be.

Richard gave him a disgusted look before saying, "The mating, boy, the mating."

Ashton nodded with a pseudo calm look and said, "I thought that that was what you said. Now, first of all, call me 'boy' again and I'll rip out your goddamned throat, and now allow me to tell you my response to the mating. HELL NO!" He barked out while giving them all a fully disgusted look. He was already beginning to loathe that damned werewolf.

The wereleopard looked surprised, pointing out, "You are aroused by our presence, so it's obvious you don't have a problem with the gender." Yeah, that would make him a damned hypocrite, and that was one thing that he would never be.

Ashton looked at them as if they were stupid before saying, "Uh, yeah, I'm kinda gay, but I'm more into monogamy more than anything, and I have to say, the mere idea of, well, messing around with so many guys makes me rather uncomfortable." Not to mention fucking sick, but he wouldn't mention that. He didn't want to accidentally offend someone with his sensitivities.

Richard actually smiled at that and spoke to Asher and Jean-Claude. "I understand why you chose him, but that does make things a bit more difficult," he switched his attention to Harry, "As we need someone to be Nimir-Ra."

Harry looked relieved at that. "Is that it? I'm assuming it has to be me, correct?" They all nodded. "Then why don't I just do a spell that binds me as your Lupa? I can do the same thing for you," He added to the silent wereleopard.

The man smiled his thanks and then continued his study of the floor.

Harry casually looked around for the source of the smell of the enhanced submission. He found it in a long haired, lavender eyed young man who looked like he'd be more comfortable dancing then being there at the moment.

He casually wandered over, and even though the wereleopard now looked about ready to attack him, he managed to restrain himself, and Harry smiled at him, and tilted the submissive's head up.

The young man's lavender eyes widened when he saw a kindred spirit. He smiled hesitantly and said, "My name's Nathaniel, and he's Micah."

He'd jerked his head towards the surprisingly relieved looking wereleopard, and Harry nodded quietly, easily hiding a mischievous smirk. It was pretty damned obvious that they both desired each other, so…guess what?

He now had a brand new match-making project. In fact, as long as they weren't already with someone, or 'destined' to be with someone, then he would do his best to match-make everyone.

If nothing else, it would give him something to do other than work. In his mind he was doing a happy dance while rubbing his hands together with an evil laugh.

Yes, this would be very difficult to do outside of his mind, which is why it was a good thing that he never would. He smiled slightly, remembering Snape's reaction to Harry's mind. He'd nearly went nutters before he managed to get out, and Dumbledore had not been happy with Ashton for not telling him that he was, apparently, crazy. As if he was supposed to know!

Although he could say this: It definitely ran in the family. His father had been just as crazy, and he knew the reason why, although he would never tell Dumbledore. His family had several Gifts. Normally, it was just one Gift per person, but Harry was the lucky one who got several. First off, he got Necromancy, a fairly normal Gift. But then, he got The Gift, the one that every single Pureblood wanted. He could speak with Lady Magic herself. His Father had had that very same Gift.

But at the moment, he had more important things to worry about, as he'd just felt a surge of Necromantic magic of nearly apocalyptic proportions.

A niggle of doubt wormed its way into his mind, and it was with pure fear that he said, "You did, of course, cremate Anita, correct?"

His worst fear was confirmed with a confused negative shake of the head. He nearly cried at the stupidity of the Master of the City. He was supposed to be fucking smart damnit!


	7. Whispers in the Dark

**Disclaimer: Don't own Anita Blake or Harry Potter. I know, shocker right?**

**Chapter Seven**

"Sonofabitch," He swore viciously, glaring at the idiots who hadn't cremated a fuckin' necromancer! "How the hell, do you kill a necromancer without knowing the proper procedures to dispose of the body?" Again, Jean-Claude was the Master of the City; he was supposed to know such procedures! Who knows what else he hadn't disposed of properly!

Jean-Claude started to protest, but Ashton shook his head angrily. "No, you were stupid enough to kill a necromancer skilled enough to kill me with a fuckin' thought; you get to listen to me rant for five goddamned seconds!" But no, that was just it. Anita was skilled, but if it came down to it, he could overpower her easily, even if he disliked letting out so much of such a Dark power at once. But if he had to, he could definitely do it.

He glared at them all, but his eyes softened slightly when he saw Nathanial cowering slightly. "Look, I need you two," he gestured to Richard and Micah, "To come over here so I can bind myself to you, if you don't mind doing it now. Personally, I would prefer to do it to each of you individually, but there isn't time for that. A resurrected necromancer is extremely dangerous, and I don't know what she could do to your Pack," nodding at Richard, "Or your Pard," nodding at Micah.

"So we need to do this quickly. I'll make small adjustments as needed, but we just need to get the basic binding down." He yanked at them and pressed his hand to each of their chests, right above their hearts. He ignored the slightly flush he got when he felt the hard muscle, figuring he could just pass it off as the flush of a magic high. He gently took the bindings off of his magic, and to his relief Lady Magic just gave him a light scolding instead of the full out beat-down he had expected.

'Mother, Goddess, My Lady Magic, the most Wonderful Creation, please allow me to use your gift to bind me to these men and all bound to them, except for the dead.' He'd learned the hard way to be extremely specific when dealing with Magic, as it did not read your mind, it went by what you said, and definitely not what you meant.

He'd been bound to the dead once, and that was partially what had caused the insanity in him to grow. It'd always been there, the magic, niggling at the back of his mind, whispering to him, telling him to kill and to cause mayhem, to use such a great Gift to equally protect and harm, and it was at that moment, when he first heard it after his fifth year, that he forgave his father, who hadn't been strong enough to resist.

Ashton could feel the bindings snap into place, and his demon chafed at the restrictions, but he quieted it with the promise of blood later. He too hated the feel of such bondage, but for now it was necessary, until Richard and Micah could find someone to replace him. He pulled back and gave Jean-Claude and Asher a dead look, well aware that his normally bright green eyes were a mix of black and red, black for the death magic he could weave so well, and red for the demon whispering for blood in the back of his mind.

"I can't deal with her." He paused and then laughed, a high pitched, insane sound that made the hair stand up at the back of their necks. "Well, I could, but you wouldn't like it too much." And they wouldn't, not if they forced his hand. He would make sure of it.

He grinned at them harshly, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I will not deal with her unless she becomes a problem to those I am bound to, and…" Jean-Claude interrupted coldly.

"You are bound to myself and Asher, and you will do as we say." Ashton froze, and then slunk up to him, the perfect image of a seducer, and many shuddered at the reminder of Raina. He had acted the part of a whore too many times to not be proficient at this, and he was perfect, as usual. He could taste their desire at the back of his throat, begging him to bask in it. But no, this was not for pleasure, this was Jean-Claude's punishment, no matter how much he wanted to give in to his own dark desire's.

Ashton ran a finger down the perfect cheek of the vampire, whispering, "Do you know what it's like to have unlimited power at your fingertips and to deny it, merely because if you accepted it you would become the monster you so passionately fought against? To have a demon whispering in the back of your mind day in and day out, encouraging you to accept the power and fight it to a standstill, to overtake it, to take revenge on all the people who betrayed you? The Pack who denied you?"

Jean-Claude didn't dare to move, and the soft voice was echoing all across the room. "No, you don't." His voice turned hard, and his eyes were as sharp as knives. "So don't you dare order me about as if I were a petulant child, because I will become such, and I assure you, I am far more dangerous throwing a tantrum than anything else you have ever and will ever meet, and you will never be able to stop me, this I promise you." He could see the affect that his darkly spoken threats had on the people in the room, and he forced himself to stop, although the heady power still lingered in the room.

He pulled back, and the red flecks disappeared from his eyes, but he refused to apologize. He had no need to. "I will be the first to admit that if she attacked anyone in this room I would try to kill the bitch until I drew my last breath, but I can honestly say that I don't give a damn about anyone outside of this room. Well, except, of course, Pack and Pard," he amended sheepishly at Micah and Richard's glares. "But you have to admit, they were already kind of counted anyways." Then his mischievous grin returned, and he turned his face to hide it.

"Hey Micah," he called quietly. The man gave him a curious look. "Why don't you take Nate, I hope you don't mind me shortening your name," he apologized absently to Nathanial, "Home, or wherever he sleeps?" Micah looked apologetic but said, "Would you mind coming too? As Nimir-Ra, well, you kinda need to sleep with the leopards if they're injured, and quite a few of them are."

Ashton paused, and then said, "I'm going to assume you mean in a platonic way, so give me the address and…" He paused.

"Eh, never mind. I'll come now." He turned to Jean-Claude. "I'll be at the Circus at sundown to speak with you about all of this." He sighed softly and looked at Micah. "Let's go." Right now, he just couldn't deal with all of this, especially not once he had given in to his urge to use the power. If he stayed, he would jump Jean-Claude and Asher, and that would just be bad for everyone involved.


	8. Plans and jealousykind of

**Disclaimer: No, still don't own anything. Deal with it.**

**Chapter Eight**

After they had gotten Ashton's car, they went to a little house, Ashton following Micah and Nathaniel. Richard had walked him to his car and left, muttering something about him being stubborn just like….well, the name had been a bit slurred, but it had sounded like Anita. Hopefully not though, as he would hate to have to kick the poor werewolf's ass, and he totally would.

He stepped out of the car and stretched, wincing as he muttered, "You gotta love traveling by car. Cramps about and carsickness too. Whoo-hoo. He took a deep breath and grinned thinly at Micah. "Well, my dear Nimir Raj, show me the way." He gave him a sardonic smirk when a sharp glare was thrown at him from a guy in the doorway, and he sniggered. "I don't think they like me very much. Don't worry," the last bit aimed at the people crowding the doorway, "I grow on you after a while." He frowned thoughtfully. "Rather like a fungus actually." Quite honestly, he didn't give a damn if they loved him or hated him, because sooner or later, they wouldn't be his problem anymore.

One of the guys chuckled and stepped forward, commenting, "I think I might actually like you. You happen to have sense of humor, unlike _some_ people around here."

Micah gave him a sharp look but Ashton snickered and said, "Yeah, somehow I get that sort of vibe."

Micah was now looking rather stunned, and Ashton held back a deep sigh and turned to him. He didn't want to do this, not right now, but what the hell. It wasn't like he really had anything better to do.

"Look, I'm pretty much a freak of nature, and I have more power than most, but most of the time, unlike when classical vampiric assholes are trying to get me to fight a fight that isn't mine, I like to pretend that I'm a normal guy with vaguely normal problems."

He scowled and muttered to himself, "Like actually keeping a damned job, one of which I will be out of again if I don't call Bert soon." Although, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he didn't need to work, he just needed something to do with his time, and now he apparently had something to keep him occupied for a long time. Eh, he'd see how it went after all the drama was over.

He shifted his focus abruptly and said, "So, anyway, seeing as I feel some major furriness coming from everyone here, I'm assuming that you're all, well, furry?" A female that, quite honestly, looked like someone from the red light district, said, "Yeah, but how'd you know that?"

They were all looking at him suspiciously now. He coughed and said, "Well, on that note, you, my dear Micah, get to deal with them while I crash here, because apparently I'm needed." Speaking of which, "All the injured Leopards need to show me were we're sleeping, because I'm your new Nimir-Ra." He grinned sardonically. "Congratulations yo, don't you feel loved?"

He yawned and stretched lazily, nearly purring as Nathaniel joined him, showing him where to sleep. Micah looking about ready to slaughter him and he cackled silently. His evil little plan was working. Fuck yeah!

He grinned to himself, and Nathaniel spoke. "I know what you're trying to do, and it's okay. If Micah doesn't want me, he doesn't have to have me. It's fine, seriously." Ashton gave him a surprisingly stern look for a sub and said, "Hell no it's not okay, and it's sure as fuck not fine either!"

He lowered his voice quickly when the voices in the other room paused for a moment. "Look, trust me when I say he wants you, he just either doesn't know it, or doesn't want to admit it. I've seen his type, and I've seen how they deny it until the sub makes them see it. Hell, I've had to do it, alright? And we all know that that was one stubborn ass Dom if he could resist me, so just trust me on this. This is your choice, of course, but I'd really like to help you." Because really, Ashton pretty much oozed raw sex appeal, and he really could deal with these situations.

Nathaniel looked hesitant, but Ashton's pleading look broke him down. "Alright," he agreed softly, "But only until you see once and for all that he doesn't want me. Then you have to stop. Agreed?"

Ashton smiled a true, warm smile. "Yeah, agreed." Because Micah really did want Nathaniel, and once he saw that he would thank Ashton.

They curled up together on the couch, and as Nathanial fell asleep almost immediately, he never saw the jealous look that Ashton was graced with from the beloved Nimir Raj. Ashton however, being his normal bitchy self, just smirked with a look that quite clearly said, 'you want him? Come and get him.' And to Ashton's amusement and Nathaniel's sleepy shock, he did.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a damn thing.**

Chapter Nine

When Ashton woke up, it was to his 'danger-sense' tingling. He barely cracked open an eye and saw Micah scowling at him. Ashton mentally frowned in confusion, wondering what he'd done to deserve the Glare of Death from Micah.

But then he felt someone shift on the couch with him, and smirked with remembrance. Nathaniel had crawled back in with him in the middle of the night, whispering tearful 'Thank yous", and had accidentally fallen asleep with him. Carefully making sure Nathaniel was still asleep, Ashton commented, "Micah, love, I assure you, I haven't defiled your beloved Nathaniel."

He didn't bother opening his eyes, and as such he never saw the quick flash of pure, unadulterated hatred that covered Micah's face before he drawled out, "You damn well better not have, otherwise I would have to kill you, Nimir-Ra or not."

Ashton laughed. "Yeah, but I won't be Nimir-Ra for long, thank the Goddess. I wouldn't be able to handle all the political shit."

He didn't bother waiting for a response; he simply extracted himself very gently from Nathaniel's grasping limbs and stood, not bothering to smooth his wrinkled clothing. He looked at Micah steadily and added, "I'll be coming back later, but for now I need a shower and clothes," He was interrupted by Micah. "Both of which you can get here."

Micah was obviously feeling bad about being so nasty to him before. Ashton got the gist of that and smiled brightly, saying, "Nah, I'm shorter and skinnier than Nathaniel, so I don't think you'd have anything that would fit me."

He stretched and yawned. "Make sure most, if not all, of your Pard is here in around…," he squinted at the clock tiredly. "Two hours?"

He made it into a question to make sure it was alright with Micah, and he nodded, signifying that it was fine with him. Ashton tossed a quick, "See you later," over his shoulder as he walked out the door, dying to get home and shower. He hadn't felt this disgusting since the Horcrux Hunt during the war, and even then he hadn't felt like this. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he really didn't like it.

Unfortunately for him, the shower that he was so looking forward to wasn't going to happen any time soon. A bright green light shot from the forest surrounding the home. It had been so long since he'd had to fight like that, that he almost froze.

Thankfully, the instruction that the Unspeakable's and various Auror corps had beaten into him took over at the last second, and he dropped to the ground, flinching at the loud crash of the Avada Kedavra smashing into the home.

He twisted himself up in a long practiced move, everything coming back in frightening detail after so many years of peace. For the first time in a very long time he allowed himself to remember the rush of dealing death, the pain of breaking an arm only to have it healed seconds later, the adrenaline of dodging curses and weapons, and the utter destruction a war brought upon a Nation.

He remembered it all in a split second and by the time he landed on his feet, the mask of the quiet, soft civilian was ripped beyond repair, revealing to everyone the battle hardened soldier he truly was. He hadn't realized how much he had missed showing his true face to the world until now, and he now knew that he never wanted to hide like that again.

He had thought he was done with the fighting, but apparently Alastor Moody had been correct. "Once in a war, forever a warrior." His sad whisper carried on the wind, drifting past ears both willing to listen and those not. Ashton Blake was gone, and in his place was Harry Potter.

But Harry Potter wasn't different enough to give into temptation, and so he still fought back the power now screaming in his head, both hating and loving the demon that soothed his pains with growls of death and destruction. Harry Potter stood straight backed and proud as he looked at those who would dare attempt to harm him.

Imagine his shock and horror when the hood was pulled down and a woman-child with a head full of bushy brown hair watched him with blank eyes. In a monotonous tone she began. "The Lord and Master of us all wishes for you to be by his side as you have always been. If you accept his generous offer, he will allow you to…"

The woman was cut off by a very familiar bright green light from one of her own comrades, but the damage was already done. Harry Potter ruthlessly crushed whatever small part of the compassionate Ashton that remained, and when he spoke it was in a voice colder than an arctic wind and softer than a summer breeze.

"First you attempt to kill me, then," he eyed their positions with a sneer, "You attempt to 'subtly' threaten those under my protection, and as if that's not enough, you inform me that if I accept his 'generous' offer, _your_ Lord will allow me to do _something_?" He was beautifully eloquent in his fury, and his face was twisted in disgust. "I can only imagine what that _something_ is, and I really have no desire to know."

"How dare you threaten me, those under my protection, and mock me and still expect me to bow down to the man you call Master? How dare you? Tell your Master that he lost any slim chance he might have had at my allegiance when you attacked those under my protection." Because you just didn't do that. You attacked him to your hearts content, but never those that he cared about.

He stood tall and proud like all those before him in his line. "I will not oppose you unless you attack me and mine, but rest assured that I will not help you either." They left the woman there, and Harry incinerated her without a second thought.

As he watched the flames, entranced by their eternal dance, a soft question caught his attention. "Ashton?" It was Nathaniel, his pretty face twisted in worry. This was the only reason he didn't snap and slaughter them all.

"No." His voice was hoarse from the thousand screams he refused to voice, but above everything he was still strong. "My true name is Harry Potter." He would not lie to them anymore. He was sick of pretending to be what he wasn't, and he sank to his knees and cried when Nathaniel's arms circled his waist. It was time to show how weak he truly was, and for the first time, he was not ashamed to do so.


	10. Acceptance

**Disclaimer: Don't own nothin'. As usual.**

No one had spoken to him after his startling confession and breakdown except Nathaniel. Everyone else was too weirded out by his odd show of strength and weakness, and Harry was okay with that. Although it would be difficult to remember to answer to 'Harry' again. He hadn't answered to it in three years. Meanwhile Nathaniel was tasked with making the Pard something to eat as they waited for sunset, still hours away.

With no one to speak with once Nathaniel was busy, and no one to screw unless he wanted to piss Micah off beyond all belief, he slipped back into old habits, and wished for a fag as he fell into meditation. His footsteps echoed as he walked through dripping sewers, grimacing at the mere thought of speaking with Loki. He would be in a ridiculously pissy mood after everything, but Harry had given him his blood. Besides, he really didn't have a choice in speaking to him.

It was either face the Demon and ask why he couldn't slip back into his civilian mindset, or be left ignorant and possibly hurt someone like Nate, someone innocent. He smiled grimly when he saw the Demon and spoke softly.

"I have a question, Lord Loki, greatest of the Wolves, if you will but hear me out." The Demon snarled at him, but couldn't say anything until he had spoken the ritualistic words. "Speak, child, and ye shall be heard." Harry nodded and began quickly, worried that the Demon's show of goodwill would soon fail.

"Lord, I am finding it impossible to slip back into my civilian mindset. Do you know of anything that could cause such a thing?" He was honestly curious, but not really worried. After all, lying about his personality had become too tiring for him to really want to go back to doing so, especially after so many people had seen it earlier.

The Demon exploded into harsh, bitter laugher. "Asks the puny human who allowed Vampire's to claim him, and then pissed them off."

"I did _not_ allow them to claim me," Harry snapped, his eyes flashing fire. "I never had a choice in the matter, so don't put that back on me."

The almost maniacal laughter cut off abruptly and the Demon was deadly serious. "They want all of you, and they won't take 'no' for an answer. They tried giving you a choice, but you practically spat in their faces, so they decided to take the choice away from you. Unfortunately for them, you had to destroy that _weak_ mindset, and your warrior mindset is far better equipped to deal with something trying to take away your free will."

Harry nodded quietly, thoughtfully. Had the warrior side been in charge from the beginning, none of this would have ever happened, because warriors had to learn to be diplomatic. Civilians didn't.

Unfortunately for Harry, diplomacy had been what was needed. It was _way_ past diplomacy now. The Demon watched his little human and smirked. He was starting to understand, but his thoughts would probably need a little jumpstart every now and then. Besides, he should have stopped the Claim before it had taken hold, and now they were _both_ stuck in it.

Loki crawled back into his cage and called out, "It's nearing sunset, and someone's approaching you to wake you up." With that warning he was shoved back into consciousness, barely able to restrain himself from lashing out when he felt someone roughly shaking him.

He opened his eyes in a state of seemingly perfect calm, and gave Micah a level stare before saying, "I'm taking my own car." No one bothered to argue with him, not even Micah. Nate just gave him an arch look before climbing into Micah's car.

Harry growled a laugh, more Demon than human for a moment before commenting to himself, "Little kitty-cat's still got some fire in 'im. Makes me almost wish I was a Dominant now. Almost." He easily followed the leopards through the winding roads, sighing as he got lost in his thoughts.

He didn't particularly want to deal with Vampire's on top of a new Dark Lord in the making, especially as they had decided that it would be a positively _swell_ idea to take away his free will. He smoothly parked and got out of the car, still functioning on autopilot. That is, until they stepped foot into the Circus. Then he was on high alert, his every sense tingling in response to all of the different types of magic. He took a deep breath, sort of 'tasting' the magic, enjoying all of the different 'flavors' melding together, the shifters, the vampires, and….necromancer?

His eyes snapped to the East, but he didn't dare to break his stride to see if it was the one who had raised Anita. Yes, Necromancer. Not Animator, but an actual Necromancer. It was powerful enough, that much was certain. Magic whispered to him sweetly now, promising death to those who would harm those he cared about. Magic was learning him, and Harry had never been so tempted.

Magic swirled around him, unnoticeable to the general public, and not for the first time Harry wished that he could be normal, without Demons and Magic whispering sweet promises in his ears. He closed his eyes briefly in longing, allowing himself to imagine, just for a moment, that he would do it.

He imagined the false life fading from Anita's blank eyes as her faceless creator fell to the ground, lifeless. Then he opened his eyes and denied himself yet again, and Magic cried for the child who wanted to believe he still bled red.

They were in the depths of the Circus now, and Harry was tenser than ever as a door opened and he was herded in to face the two Vampires' alone.

He faced them steadily, and they could both see that he had changed, and not in the way that they had wished. His back was straight, and the tilt of his jaw was proud, and in his dull forest green eyes were cold flames surrounding a core so hard, it would put mythril shame. Jean-Claude and Asher shared a look, both agreeing that this was a situation that had to be dealt with carefully.

"Mon Joli Loup," Jean-Claude began carefully, "Perhaps you could explain to us how this drastic change occurred?" Harry smiled sweetly and nodded, but his eyes were as hard and cold as he said, "Perhaps _you_ could tell _me_ what the _fuck_ you were thinking when you tried to take away my free will?"

Jean-Claude and Asher shared another silent look, and apparently Asher won their silent argument, because it was he who spoke. "We were not trying to take away your free will, mon loup, but merely make you trust us more." The Demon was silent as he tested the truth in their words. Harry laughed harshly when the verdict came back. "The sad thing is that I believe you." But it was still complete bullshit, because that was the only reason he couldn't put his mask back on if he needed to.

Harry rose quickly and quietly, and finally accepted the truth. He was not a civilian, and he was not normal by any means. He was one of the top assassins in the Werewolf Guild, and the shadows were his home. He was the Boy Who Lived, and an Arch-Magus at that, and the limelight was where he was at his best. He was pure contradiction, and anyone around him who couldn't handle that could just get the fuck out of his way unless they wanted to get burned.

Magic whispered to him even as he should have died. He was Harry Potter, and he was not some sort of pet, and he didn't have to take people fucking around in his mind, not anymore. Before he walked out of the office he said, "I will be back tomorrow with what I think caused the attack. Right now, I can barely think."

He walked out to his car, and no one bothered to stop him. He drove home, ate, and then took a shower, relishing in the feel of the hot water gliding over his skin.

He collapsed into bed, hoping for a full night's sleep. Yeah, right.

_**Omake:**_ As Harry drifted off to sleep, Charlie-Boy sprung from the shadows and attacked Harry with…hugs! So powerful were his hugs that Harry was happy for the rest of his days, and didn't give a rat's ass about the rest of the world, just like he had always wanted.


	11. Issues of the dead kind

**Disclaimer: Do I really still need this? I don't own anything, obviously.**

Chapter Eleven

To Harry's utter annoyance, however, he was unable to get more than a few hours of sleep before he was woken up by a loud banging on his door. He groaned to himself and stumbled out of bed. This was what he got for holding what he and Ron had always joked were 'vampire hours'. He was dully surprised to notice that thinking of Ron no longer hurt.

He jerked the door open and gave Richard the Death Glare that he had stolen from Snape, before the man had died, and allowed it to do all of the talking for him. Of course, it would never work as well as it had for the Death Eater, but he could still try, right?

Richard matched his glare and snapped, "Look, I don't like you very much, in fact you're ridiculously similar to Anita," this got him an even harsher glare, but he paid no attention to it and continued, "But you're now the Pack's Lupa and Bolverk, and they need to get to know you. You get to tell them what happened, and you get to deal with the reactions. Some of them really loved Anita." Werewolf was lucky that there were more important things to deal with than being compared to Anita, otherwise he would be out the apartment building on his ass.

Harry sighed and nodded. "Alright, when'll this thing happen?"

Richard smiled grimly and said, "Tonight. Do you know where the Lupanar is?"

Harry gave him a droll look. "Yeah, I totally know where something for Shifters is when I'm not one, and don't have any Shifter friends."

Richard gave him a disgusted look. "That is quite obvious."

Harry rolled his eyes in the utter teenage insult. "Whatever. Look, do I get a guide, or do I get to wander around in the woods until I get eaten?" As pleasant as that sounded, he would have to go with a 'no thanks' on that one.

Richard smirked slightly. "Quite opposite to what I would actually prefer, you get a guide. She'll be here tonight at eight to take you there." Yeah, Harry was really feeling the love from Richard.

Harry nodded in understanding. "Tell her to bring her own car." He wasn't going to be stuck in the same car as some small minded bitch.

-Time skip-

Later on that night he was picked up by _the_ most annoying woman that ever existed! She had said her name was Paris, and she was blonde, very pretty, and majorly bitchy. She had shoved her way into his apartment and proceeded to insult everything inside of it. By the time that they were on their way to the Lupanar he was near to strangling her. He had never been so happy to have his own car.

Once they reached the woods the Lupanar was concealed in, they got out and walked, Paris obviously unhappy to have to walk slowly with the human. Harry found great amusement in that, since he could probably run faster than she could, but he really wanted to piss her off. However, once they reached the Lupanar Harry wished he had never agreed to speak.

Over four centuries of magic and fury remained in this ancient ground, and it rushed to the one who could finally hear it. It recognized the man who had wielded Hogwarts ancient power until her stones crumbled and all of her students lay dead. It recognized that he had what it took to wield over four centuries of blood and sacrifice, and it cried when he denied himself yet again.

He barely managed to shake himself out of the pseudo trance Magic had put him in before Richard called him to take the 'stage', as it was. He took a deep breath as he walked in front of all of the wolves.

He may have nearly unlimited power at his fingertips, but he still positively loathed public speaking, and he had no doubt that that was something that would never get better. After all, how else would he know that he was still (kind of) human.

"Okay," he began with a slightly, almost unnoticeably shaky voice, "As Richard just told you, I am the new Lupa until he finds a new one. This is only because it was necessary to bind myself to all of those bound to Anita, as a Necromancer raised her, and she could use those she was bound to in life if her raiser felt it necessary. I took away that option. I am working closely with Jean-Claude to find who raised someone of that much power. Rest assured that this unrest will soon be over, and we can all go back to our normal lives, a little bit sadder yes, but feeling all the more safe." Despite his intense dislike of public speech, he was extremely eloquent.

He looked at Richard and added quietly, "I have to go talk to Jean-Claude and Asher. I have an idea or two about who's doing this, so I gotta go. I'm sure you can take over from here." He grinned at Richard sarcastically. "I really do hope so; otherwise you really aren't fit to be Ulfric." He whistled as he hopped down from the makeshift stage, happy to have made Richard just a little bit more unhappy than he already was. He really didn't like the poncey werewolf.

He walked out of the woods and to his car, and went to the Carnival of the Damned. They had a walking dead problem to sort out, and they would sort it out his way, or they wouldn't sort it out at all. He was sick of playing games.


	12. The End, and A Beginning

_A/N: It's the end yo. It's kind of sad and reliving at the same time. First off, let's congratulate my amazing beta, because she is totally amazing for beta-ing this entire thing, and for just being a generally amazing person who helped me revise my stories. Yeah, all of them. So go bombard yamiyugi23 with glomps and thanks. XD_

**Disclaimer: Despite all my attempts at bargaining with JKR, I still do not own Harry Potter and crew, nor Anita Blake and crew, but I wouldn't want to own her anyways.**

Harry Potter took a deep, if slightly unsteady breath, as he lay in the coffin. After spending most of his childhood in a cupboard, small spaces still terrified him, and he wondered again what he was doing. Why couldn't he be like every other fairly normal human around and just ignore everything preternatural? He was hyperventilating and he knew it, lightheaded and perfectly terrified. He had to admit, it wasn't the most elegant solution, but it was simple. Pretend to be dead, then pop up and kill the Necromancer when he was dug up. Unfortunately, they had all forgotten to figure his claustrophobia into the equation.

He forced himself to calm down, slipping into a deep meditation as quickly as humanly possible, because despite everything, he was human, and he knew it. His mortality was not something that he had ever denied, but now he wished that he was something other than a freak of nature, bitten by a werewolf with an ancient wolf spirit inside of him. The meditation would hide his magic, and that was a must, because any Necromancer worth their salt would be able to feel magic as powerful and sentient as his own, and then he would be in deep shit.

As much as he always tried not to, he couldn't help but allow his mind to travel back to the Battle of Hogwarts, and in meditation he could do nothing about the memories flashing past his mind's eye unless he wanted to release a large flare of magic that would tell every sentient thing within fifty miles that he was alive and terrified. No, he let the memories flow and prayed that this time he would find some peace.

_Flashback_

He was panting heavily, glaring at Dumbledore. "Albus, if we don't destroy them now, we won't get a chance like this again for Merlin knows how long. It's the perfect time, we just have to get organized and strike quickly and they won't have a chance." His eyes were gleaming insanely, and he just wanted this war over and done with. "Albus, if you won't order this, I will, and we will see how many will follow you when you will do nothing proactive."

It was a threat mixed in with a promise, and Albus Dumbledore bowed his head sadly. "If you insist on this, then order it Harry. But I want no part in such a massacre."

Harry shrugged. "I don't really care at this point Albus: I just want this over with."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "As do I, but you do not see me ordering the massacre of innocent people to get it done!"

Harry ignored him and called for silence in the Great Hall. "I have a plan that may very well end this tonight," he called out, his voice ringing in the stupefied silence. "However, this plan calls for a quick attack, and I want to know: Who is with me?" The crowd in the Hall roared their agreement, their spirits rising now that there seemed to be an end to this war in their sight and grasp, and Harry smiled. "Good. Now, the plan is simple. We will attack at sunset, and after the first spell is fired it's every man for himself, because we don't have the time to come up with a sufficient formation in the time we have left."

At sunset he bared his teeth at the Death Eaters, allowing them to see the feral beast that resided within him. He wasn't willing to play nice anymore, and the Death Eaters were fair game. He smiled at Ron, who stood beside him as always, and spoke quietly. "I appreciate this Ron, I really do. You're the only one who sees the potential in this plan."

Ron shrugged and said, "That's because I know how your mind works mate, you're completely psycho, but you know how shit works, and I have faith in you that you won't send us to our execution."

Harry couldn't explain how happy that made him feel, so he just looked quickly to the approaching army, missing the surprised and now suspicious look on Ron's face.

"Alright," he roared to his own army, "Let's go, and no mercy!"

They roared their agreement and surged past him and Ron, and Harry smiled thinly, already searching for Voldemort. He was through playing games, it was time to get serious now.

He tore through the Death Eaters like a knife through warm butter, Ron right by his side, and he swore as he slammed into Ron, slamming him into the circle where Voldemort was trying to complete his ritual to make Hogwarts power his. But he was not the true Heir, and the Castle knew it, and Harry was forced to his knees, words spilling past his lips without his consent.

"I, Harry James Potter, claim the power of Hogwarts. It is mine by blood, and mine by right, and I will not accept this usurper attempting to take the power that is mine. Come to me Hogwarts."

It was a simple enough ritual, but the Dark Magic flowing through the circle made even the Death Eaters cringe back, and Harry barely had a moment to hope that Ron had gotten out okay before he was back on his feet, Hogwarts buzzing in the back of his mind, conversing with his own Magic.

"Let's play Tommy," he whispered, his voice raspy from the Magic pouring through him and more menacing than it had ever been. He threw everything he had at the older man from the moment they started, and that was the only advantage that he had. He could hear terrified exclamations as Hogwarts crumbled, but he already knew what was happening. He was using too much of Her magic, and it was destroying her, and She was giving it to him willingly.

He glanced to the side in an attempt to find a weapon, and cried out at the sight of little Lily Granger-Weasley, dead in a pool of red, and he screamed out his rage to the skies. He released blocks that he didn't even know he's had, and before he knew it Voldemort was dead and Ron was crawling to his side. He shoved him away, whispering, "Leave Ron, tell them we won. Tell them!" He crawled away unwillingly, and Harry lay there exhausted, only now noticing the full moon above him as he heard the wolf howl, and he smirked bitterly. "Come and get some Greyback," he whispered as the wolf loped out of the forest and he choked on the blood from his slit throat.

_End Flashback_

Harry didn't feel a thing as he watched the memories, only a vague sense that he probably should have listened to Albus, but now he was dead too and there was no one that could help him. He gently pulled himself out of his meditation as he heard the sharp noises of dirt being shoveled magically. His magic flared just a little, and the sounds ceased for a moment before a rough voice muttered, "Of course his Magic is still in his body, it hasn't been three days yet and he was one of the most powerful Necromancers that anyone knew."

Harry allowed the coffin to be dug up, and he allowed it to be opened, but he didn't expect the cold hand immediately on his cheek, nor the magic delving into his soul, attempting to get him to submit, and he convulsed, screaming, and the only thing grounding was him the cold hand as he blacked out.

He heard growling and he gently placed a hand on the snout of his wolf spirit, his silent apology silencing the wolf for now. He kept his eyes trained on the shadows, and nearly cried as the man walked out of them.

"Hello Harry," Ron Weasley smiled, although the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I should have figured that you wouldn't die that easily. You are the most powerful wizard since Merlin after all."

Harry could say nothing to that mocking voice, instead staring in horror at the terribly disfigured face of his former best friend.

Ron laughed, noticing where he was looking. "Oh, these?" He fingered the scars like they were jewelry and shrugged. "Just small souvenirs from the Dark Magic you invoked, _with me still in the circle!_"

Harry choked. "I didn't know that you were still in the circle Ron, I swear it."

Ron sneered. "You know, I actually thought that you cared about us, but all you did was lead us to the slaughter! Was it worth it Harry? All those deaths, were they worth ending your war? _Was the_ _death of my daughter worth it?"_

What could Harry say except, "Your daughter was not supposed to be on a battlefield Ron, her death wasn't my fault."

Harry didn't expect him to rush at him, but he desperately fended him off, all his self defense lessons far from his mind in the face of his best friend.

"You will die here Harry," Ron said venomously, "And then I will have my revenge on the world who wronged me. You should be glad," he cooed mockingly, "All the people who killed Remus, who rejected you, they'll die too."

Harry slowly gathered all of his magic, his eyes gleaming with icy tears. "I loved you Ron: you were my best friend, the only one who believed in me, and for that I will attempt to make this as painless as possible."

He could feel Ron's own magic ripping and tearing at him, but he did nothing about it, tears dripping down his face. He was doing what he had sworn he would never do again, not after Voldemort. He was going to rip out Ron's magic, and most likely kill him in the process. He reached out and _pulled_, and Ron just fell to the ground.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered as he faded back into consciousness, glancing over the side of the coffin to see Ron in a wheelchair, dead. "I'm sorry," he repeated, before he cringed. He felt so _empty_. He hated magical exhaustion.

_****_

Jean-Claude and Asher watched him with poorly concealed concern as he looked back at them.

"It's done," he said simply, and Asher snorted.

"We gathered that Mon Loupe, but what we want to know is how did you handle it?" His face was full of concern. "From what we understand it was an old friend of yours."

Harry paused and thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "Not really," he murmured, staring out the window. "Not really."


End file.
